COMPLETED: Something's rotten in Scotland...

[GM Nick]

Con Test (Max)

[Con (4) + CHA (7) + First Impression (2) + Tailored Pheromones (2) = 6]
4 4 6 2 5 6 4 2 4 5 6 5 3 2 1
[Con (1) + CHA (3) = 0]
2 1 1 4 **Critical Glitch!**

The receptionist's cheeks turn bright red and she puts her chin in her hands.

"Why hello, handsome. My day was going pretty slow until you came by. Tell you what--I'm stepping into the loo to freshen up. I'll write down my access code and you can use my terminal..."

She scribbles down her password and smiles coyly.

[John]

Max gives her a mischievous smile and says,

"You're a sweetheart. Why don't you also write down your number so I can give you a call later? That is.. if you don't have plans..."

[Stephen]

A drek-eating grin spreads across Val's face as he watches the receptionist saunter coyly away from her desk, her every step overemphasizing the swaying of her hips to the point of comedy. He glances to Max and speaks in a low voice.

"I don't know how the frag you do that, but one of these days you'll have to give me some pointers. So, Mr. Officer of Standards and Regulations, may I?" Val gestures to the woman's vacant terminal.

[John]

Max pulls a cigarette from his pack, puts it in his lips, and lights it. Dragging off of it with deep satisfaction, Max says,

"Be my guest."

Having a smoke after duping somebody hook, line, and sinker may be better than having one after sex. Should the opportunity present itself later, Max would surely compare versus the same target.

[Stephen]

Val plops himself down in the receptionist's chair, spins around once like a hyperactive child in his father's office chair, and cracks his knuckles dramatically. His fingers dance across the keyboard as he quickly locates the service log and surfs to the date in question. He sorts the list by Vehicle ID and leans forward, chin on his fist. The ghostly light from the terminal reflects in his eyes as they flick back and forth across the screen.

[GM Nick]

It doesn't take Val more than a few moments before he locates the subject in question.

Dragesh leans down and squints at the screen before letting forth a low whistle.

"Oliver Rehnquist. He's one of the wealthiest men in New Edinburgh, and a supporter of the order to boot... wonder how he's caught up in all of this?"

[Drew Buddy]

Adams glances around the room, watching for the return of the receptionist.

"How do we get in contact with this man? I don't suppose a man with that kind of wealth is easy to contact directly."

[Stephen]

Val's fingers become a momentary blur as he calls up the client contact information on the service record entry.

"Well, seems to me we've got a lead. The contact is just a lackey, to be sure, but it's a start." Val beams broadly, nevermind that the average six-year-old could likely have accomplished such a feat.

[John]

Max recognizes his disproportionate pride in his accomplishment, pats him on the shoulder, and says,

"Good job, Val. A promise is a promise-- when we get back to Seattle I'll return your turtle to you, alive and well. Let's go ask this drekbag about his extra-curricular activities of late."

[Stephen]

"Goody gumdrops."

Val ensures the rental log is closed so as not to give the receptionist any clue as to the specific focus of their inquiry, not that he has any evidence to suggest that she'd be bright enough to suss out their intentions even if they were scrawled on the wall in neon holopaint. He brushes off his hands unnecessarily and heads for the door.

[GM Nick]

[ Half a klick out -- Rehnquist manor, New Edinburgh ]

Dragesh peers through a set of polished tactical binoculars.

"Well, I don't see any human guards. One of us should sweep the astral plane, to be safe."

[John]

Max pinches the bridge on his nose and squeezes his eyes shut,

"I could be back there. I could be back there right now with a comely Scottish lass of virtue true actively tearing down her virtue. But no. Instead I'm sitting here with you fraggin' guys. Sometimes I question my decision making abilities."

[Stephen]

Val shakes his head with a rueful grin.

"Welcome to the club, 'mano." Val claps Max on the shoulder to take the sting out of his friendly gibe.

[Elliott]

Tyros gives Max an askance look and says wirily, "I appreciate your sacrifice."

Tyros feels himself getting close to his vengeance. His fingers absently brushing the hilt of his claymore in anticipation. Switching to astral vision, Tyros examines the manor and its grounds, probing any trace of wards or barriers (roll assencing as necessary).

[GM Nick]

Tyros can't make out much from their remote vantage point, much less the walls on the opposite side of the manor.

(( Might want to astrally project. Or, I can have Dragesh do it. ))

[John]

Max takes a sidelong and faintly embarrassed glance at Tyros, whose attention has turned from his brief chiding of the elf back to the task at hand. Max's attempts at levity had clearly been unwelcome, which he should have been able to figure out on his own. Rather than apologizing for his comments, the elf concludes that the best course of action is to focus on avenging Tyros's master.

[Elliott]

"I'm going in astrally for a closer look, be back in a minute."

Tyros' closes his eyes and relaxes into his seat, his body going completely limp a second later. The colors of astral space come alive as the troll opens his eyes on the other side. His armored, tartaned avatar sits up and moves smoothly through the car and down towards the mansion. He does a quick circuit and flies over the top of the mansion, getting a close look at any wards or astrally active forms in the compound, but doesn't get close enough to draw intruder attention.

[GM Nick]

Tyros leaves his body and rises above the moor, the gold-tinted landscape spinning away as his astral spirit ascends. The manor--being inorganic--is nothing more than hazy black shadow in this place, but it's silhouette is recognizable enough. The troll hermetic drifts expediently between gothic spires and chimneys, passing to get a full view of the compound's perimeter.

A pair of watcher spirits patrol the periphery. Tyros recognizes these. They're alarm spirits, affectionately known as screamers. If they get a good glimpse of him, every mage in a 20 kilometer radius will know. Aside from the pair of mobile obstacles, there appear to be spell wards built on every door and window. High force wards too, judging from the intensity of which the gold flame blazes from their detail-less surface.

Astral security for the wealthy isn't unheard of, but to such a degree? Tyros can smell a rat.

[Elliott]

Tyros returns quickly to his body, eyes snapping open and hands flexing unconsciously as he takes corporeal form again.

"The manor is locked up like their hiding the Loch Ness monster inside. We have wards on all the entrances, but of more concern are the two watcher spirits. They'll alert any Mage in the greater area if they see us inside the compound. The way I see it we have three options. One, try to sneak in, which means that Dragesh and I have to banish the spirits in one go so they can set off an alarm, something I'm not particularly good at. Two, use some sort of pretext to gain entry from whoever inhabits the manor. Or three, just smash our way in and force a confession."

[Drew Buddy]

Doc grins uncomfortably,

"I have a feeling we're going to try one of the first two options, end end up doing the third..."

[John]

Max steps up to the plate and says,

"I'm ready to try to talk out way in there, but you know I'm also ready to pummel in with brute fraggin' force." The team can practically see the elf's excitement at the prospect of either as he continues, "What kind of magical response can we expect if we're found out? Every mage in the area will know, but how many mages in the area are friendly to this drekbag and will actually respond? Make the call, Tyros. This is your area of expertise."

[Elliott]

Tyros grins, "It seems to me that our presence will be known pretty much from the get-go. Why don't we walk up like we have business here and see if someone will let us inside the easy way. Might work, might not. Either way, all hell is going to break loose as soon as we get in. As far as how many mages oppose us, I have no idea, but it doesn't matter. We'll kill them all." The big troll's voice is dead flat at the end. There is a none too subtle ruthlessness in his eye and a look of determination on his face that borders on fatalism.

Getting out of the car, Tyros leads the team down towards the gate and nods Max towards the intercomm.

[John]

Max smiles a small but devilish smile and says to the team,

"Here's where things get fun."

Turning to his attention to the intercom, the elf depresses the call button with his thumb. The analog sound of lines connecting-- long since lost to even sentimental facsimiles of yesteryear's technological affectations back in Seattle-- is both foreign and comforting to Max. He can remember a time when that sound might have rung in his world, but he thinks that memory is probably false. The connection at the other end wordlessly prompts Max to begin,

"We're here on business from the Order. We request entrance to discuss a... sensitive.. matter."

[GM Nick]

The voice on the other end is skeptical.

"I don't have an appointment for you. Whom did you speak to?"

[John]

Max keeps it going,

"We don't have an appointment. We're here to see Oliver Rehnquist. I'm afraid I can't tell you any more about the sensitive nature of this visit."

[GM Nick]

Con Test (Max)

[Con (4) + CHA (7) + First Impression (2) = 2]
1 2 3 1 1 1 3 3 3 3 6 5 1
[Con (3) + CHA (3) = 2]
5 2 2 6 2 4

"No appointment, no entry. Now scram before I call in the security team!"

[John]

Max grows more forceful and tries his best to channel the arrogance of a master mage,

"Your security team is of little threat to me, insect. We're here to see Rehnquist, and the matter we come to address can only be brought to him."

[GM Nick]

"I'm calling security."

The intercom falls silent.

[John]

Max looks over his shoulders at the team gathered behind him on either side. The elf shrugs at Tyros with a grin, depresses the call button, and growls,

"We'll see you soon."

[Drew Buddy]

Even though the status indicator on his AR feed shows Adams that his rifle is loaded, he finds himself pulling the bolt back to check for a round anyway.

"Okay then, let's go set trans-Atlantic relations back a few decades," he says, letting the bolt slide forward.

[Elliott]

Tyros nods, launching into his standard pre-combat spell casting with a wave of his hand (centering) before vanishing (invis, improved reflexes, deflection, f4, sustaining foci).

Shifting to astral vision, the troll unlimbers his giant claymore, ready for whatever spirit defenses the "security team" might entail.

"I guess they want to do this the hard way. Or maybe this is the easy way, i forget. Are you with us Dragesh, or do you want to wait in the car? Doc, would you like to assist our hosts in opening the gate for us?"

[GM Nick]

Imp. Invis (4)

[Spellcasting (6) + MAG (6) + Power Focus (2) = 3]
1 3 2 5 2 1 3 4 6 1 3 4 4 6

Deflection (4)

[Spellcasting (6) + MAG (6) + Power Focus (2) = 4]
3 5 5 3 6 6 1 2 4 3 1 4 2 3

Increase Reflexes (4)

[Spellcasting (6) + MAG (6) + Power Focus (2) = 5]
6 3 5 5 3 1 3 5 5 3 2 2 2 4

Resist Drain

[WIL (4) + LOG (6) + Centering (4) + Focused Concentration (2) = 7]
6 5 1 4 6 1 5 6 5 3 5 4 1 2 3 2
[WIL (4) + LOG (6) + Centering (4) + Focused Concentration (2) = 8]
6 2 3 5 5 5 2 2 5 1 6 3 5 1 3 6
[WIL (4) + LOG (6) + Centering (4) + Focused Concentration (2) = 7]
6 4 6 1 6 3 1 1 3 5 2 5 4 2 5 6

Dragesh unbuttons his cuffs and nods resolutely at Tyros.

"For Darius."

Powerball (6) (Dragesh)

[Spellcasting (Combat) (8) + MAG (6) = 5]
1 5 6 6 4 2 6 5 4 4 1 1 3 4
[Armor (16) = 2]
3 1 2 3 4 3 2 6 5 4 4 2 4 4 1 4

A flare of green energy rockets out of Dragesh's palm and slams into the massive security gate, punching a sizeable hole in it.

Resist Drain (6)

[WIL (5) + LOG (5) = 4]
6 2 4 2 6 5 2 5 4 1

(( 2S DAMAGE ))

The mage winces and beams at the team.

"Apres vouz."

[John]

The gate now open, Max moves swiftly inside the compounds perimeter with his weapon at the ready. He sweeps his surroundings with the sights of the gun as he makes his way toward the mansion up the walkway. Max is excited to be able to repay the debt he owes to Tyros.

He's also excited to geek some fraggin' mages.

[GM Nick]

The team moves swiftly up a cobblestone path, beset on both sides by moss-claimed Celtic stone statues and meticulously pruned hedges. The sun is dipping beneath the horizon, causing the shadows to leap out from the corners of the manicured gardens that could be hiding assailants.

Dragesh brings up the rear, moving in a backwards jog.

"Tyros, if there is significant magical resistance, we may have to work together to counter-spell. Can I assume the proverbial hatchet is buried?"

[Stephen]

Val's eyes, scanning for hostiles all the while, narrow slightly at the oddly timed attempt at relational maintenance on the heels of Dragesh's tactical suggestion. Val's always exhibited a degree of paranoia which many deckers would probably consider healthy in the matrix, and most others might consider excessive in the meat. Translation: you can trust me. The phrase skitters through his mind in the multitude of voices who've uttered it to Val in the past. A few told it true. Most, however, did not, and Val thought he knew every one of them better than he knows Dragesh. He truly hopes the Brother is sincere, but resolves to keep an eye out for any hint of treachery all the same.